


Get Him a Boy

by morgan_cian



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, Master/Slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan_cian/pseuds/morgan_cian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of a boy who grows into a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Him a Boy

“Get him a boy.”

That was what my father said, evening turning cool, the candlelight glowing, the smell of burning wood and incense in the air.

I was seven summers old. We had moved from our village on the edge of the empire to the palace. I liked it here. There was a roof over our heads, plenty of food, balconies that stretched out towards the sea. It was warm unlike our old village that smelled of damp wood and rotting vegetation.

I liked it here but I was bored. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, scurrying about. Finely dressed noblemen and simply dressed men and woman that had leather about their throats.

“I agree,” My mother responded with a low chuckle. It was a sound that I had never heard. Deep, throaty, and her cheeks were really red; I guessed that it came from the wine. Not the young girl, whose head was against my mother’s thigh, the same leather about her throat.

They said no more, I was sent to bed, staring out at the stars. The palace was never quiet, marching feet, whistling wind, low laughter, and an odd cry now and again. It was never quiet but the rhythm of the palace lulled me to sleep.

The boy was younger than I. With yellow hair, wide blue eyes and spots across his nose. When I asked, he rubbed the back of his hand under his nose and called them freckles. I had not seen freckles in our old village. They fascinated me, how they would stand out against white skin, how they would pull together when he scrunched up his nose.

I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to do with a boy but I was glad that he was there. His name was Melix and I was not lonely any longer. We would play, running until our legs felt as if they would fall off, swim until we thought we would turn into fish, and eat like hungry dogs, snapping up food and daring anyone to take it away.

When I started to learn my figures and ciphers, Melix would lay on the pallet nearby, asking questions, wanting me to read to him, laughing when I stuttered, squeezing my shoulder when everything ran together and my head hurt.

But what I loved the most was having his comforting presence at night. His smaller body fit against my own like two broken pieces of pottery that had been mended back together. My lips would settle against the leather about his neck, his warm bottom snuggled against my hips, keeping me warm. Instead of the rhythm of the palace, it was Melix’s breathing that lulled me to sleep. Summer days passed into the cool winter seasons, over and over again. Melix in my arms the constant as our bodies grew and changed, from small gangly limbs to new muscle and aching bones.

I didn’t understand the sharp pain that flooded my groin when Melix shifted in his sleep. I thought I was dying, it was hard and it would not go down. Instead it seemed to have a mind of its own, seeking out Melix’s warmth, dragging my hips along in its search.

The teachers had talked of mating, of joining, the act bringing about the birth of young, between a man and woman. But Melix was a boy like me and I did not understand. I eased out of our pallet with one last deep breath. The scent of Melix’s neck was soothing but it only caused my skin to feel tighter, the sense of wrongness increasing in my groin.

I hobbled to my father’s room. He had a series of rooms for himself, just as mother and I had. I kept quiet, not wanting to disturb him but needing the comfort of my sire. His sleeping chamber was heavy with musk and sweat. I doubled over at the greedy lurch of my penis. I needed answers as I whimpered in pain.

“Nyan?” My father’s voice was gruff with sleep. He pushed himself up onto his elbow, frowning. “My son?”

I nearly pitched to my knees when I got to his side. I put my head against the bed, the shock of the heavy scent made my mouth go dry. Instead of the formal ‘father’ I croaked as if I were a babe toddling at his knees, “Da, it hurts.”

Rustling of the bed covers and a low rumbling did not distract me from my goal. My father would know how to fix the aching pain in my body. He lifted me from the floor, his burly arms about my shoulders as he settled me into his lap. The silk felt cool against my bare thighs. My father’s skin warm against my cheek.

“Ny is becoming a man.” I could tell my father was speaking over my head. A low answering chuckle made me turn my head sharply. For it was a male’s laughter not my mother.

His name was Jereel. I thought he was my father’s page, a servant for he was always at father’s side. His hair was thick about his shoulders, brown but the firelight made it red. He wore the same leather around his neck as Melix did. His body seemed to curl into my father and I could feel the heat of his bare skin at my back. He leaned his head against father’s shoulder and smiled at me, his brown eyes soft.

“Get him a boy,” Jereel muttered, his head moving side to side, his lips trailing against father’s shoulder. “A boy will take care of his need. But it is cruel, _metah_ , to leave him in such a state.

 _Metah_ , that was the word for master. But my thoughts scattered like leaves on the wind when a damp hand slipped beneath my tunic and gripped the very source of my pain.

My back arched and cried out in agony and a strange curdling pleasure in my belly. I could see father’s dark eyes and felt lips against my temple.

“Hush, little _metah_ , hush.” I choked and felt overwhelmed. When darkness blackened the room, Jereel withdrew his hand.

_Get him a boy._

Everything changed in the dawn’s light. I had awoke, father’s arms curled about my belly but my head was on Jereel’s chest. The aching pain was gone but ghosts of it cramped my guts as I stared up at Jereel’s jaw. He did not have freckles like Melix.

I ate breakfast with father. Jereel placed platters on the table before kneeling next to father. I could barely make out his brown red hair from where I sat. Melix always sat next to me, never below me. He also fed himself. I frowned deeply when father placed food in Jereel’s mouth. He noticed and only laughed quietly.

I returned to my rooms. I needed to talk to Melix. To get the overwhelming pressure off of my chest, my mother waited at the entrance. She had a soft smile on her lips. “Nyny, my baby is becoming a man.”

That echoed the words from the evening past. I gave a respectful nod before flying into her arms. The softness of her bosom made my face flame. It was my mother, comfort, and again my traitorous body was sending confusing signals to both my brain and my groin. She eased me back, tracing a thumb across my cheekbone.

“There is someone I want you to meet, my son.”

A stranger ducked from the interior of my rooms. He was about my size, maybe a fraction shorter but we could meet eye to eye. His eyes reminded me of the ocean, bright blue green. Melix’s were soft blue gray of a sky about to pour down rains from the heavens.

Melix, my heart lurched. What would he think of having to share our small rooms with another boy?

“Sephestia,” Her voice changed, not the dew soft voice she spoke to me but harder, commanding and the boy’s shoulder’s straightened reflexively, “My son, your _metah_.”

I opened my mouth to protest. Jereel had called me little _metah_ in jest. I did not understand the joke at my expense. “Mana,” I spoke and she lifted a brow, “Where is Melix?”

Her expression matched the hardness in which she spoke to Sephestia, “He has been returned to the stew for training.”

“But we learn together, Mana, I need to speak to Melix.”

She just lifted her hand, brushing away my confusion and fear for my companion. “You will speak to Sephestia.” I sputtered but her expression turned into a frown and I shut my mouth. “Sephestia knows the answers to your questions. He is yours to command, Nyan.”

And with that she swept out of the marbled archway, Tessla falling into step with her. I almost jumped out of my skin when Sephestia knelt at my feet. His ocean eyes almost pitying. “You do not understand, do you, _metah_?”

“Do not talk down to me,” I spat. I moved quickly and he tumbled onto his buttocks which made me feel smug. “I shall speak to Melix.”

Sephestia scrambled to his feet and put himself bodily between the archway and me. “You cannot, _metah_ ,” His voice was apologetic but firm. “You would only get the little _shattel_ in trouble. He is very frightened at the moment and you will only make it worse.”

The new word caused me to pause, “ _Shattel_?”

A light pink tinged Sephestia’s cheeks. He did not have freckles like Melix. “ _Shattel,_ _metah_ , a body servant. He is being trained to give his body to his _metah_.”

I stepped back. Melix was my friend; he did not belong to some other person. The heat raged through my body. Jereel shared father’s bed and Tessla was always with my mana. I studied Sephestia once more. His pretty eyes, his pink lips, his golden skin on display but for the wrap about his hips, his collar was the same but he had a wrap of bells around his ankle that I had not noticed in my displeasure. I had seen and heard them about the palace and the markets about the beaches. Jereel and Tessla did not wear bells. Why did Sephestia?

“The bells?” I croaked.

Sephestia ducked his head, his honey hair spilling about his shoulders, almost gold like his skin. Skin that rapidly turned red as it crawled across his chest and his neck.

“I am with you a short time, _metah_ , until you are old enough to make your choice.” The boy mumbled, his bottom lip bitten between sharp white teeth.

“Choose?”

“A _shattel_ of your own, _metah_.”

The world spun sideways. “How do you know such things?”

“I am an apprentice. Just as your Melix will become,” Sephesita would not meet my gaze. “I am your _shattel_.

Get him a boy meant a body servant, a _shattel_. Sephestia was to be mine for a time, just as Melix had been.

I did not like it. I ignored the boy. I wanted Melix, my friend. I could not sleep without his weight against me. The pain in my groin was becoming uncontrollable. I would awake after finally sleeping to find the wet, white stickiness that caused more shame.

I tried to find Melix. I asked about the stew and was pointed to the edges of market with a lewd chuckle. The painted woman would not allow me entrance. I could smell strange smoke and hear low laughter. And crying, a desperate animalistic sound that made me sick. Little Melix could not be here. But as the woman went to shut the door, I could see a boy, sweat soaked skin and with terror, fighting his way out of burly, thick matted, hairy arms. The arms pulled him down sharply causing the boy to cry even louder.

Not Melix and in my panic, I realized something else. Sephestia, he had said that Melix would become like him. Sephestia? The shy, obedient boy had been put through _that?_ _Jereel and Tessla, too?_

My legs were rubber when I bent at the waist, my stomach ridding itself of my meager breakfast. My mother and father were not pleased with me upon my return. I was sent to my rooms, alone. I did not think on Sephestia, I curled on my bed heartsick for Melix.

It was morning when I moved again. My eyes were gritty so I bathed in cool water, cleaning the sickness from my mouth. I wondered about Sephestia; he normally helped with my bathing before breakfast, bathing his slender body as well.

I found him with father, kneeling with his head down, my breakfast prepared on the small table. The disappointment on father’s face shamed me. I could not meet his eyes. I heard him speaking but the words did not register. He squeezed my shoulder and left me alone with Sephestia.

The boy was slow as he stood; stiff and jerky, as he poured juice and cut the fruit and cheese. Feeling ill at ignoring him, I reached out to pat his back. He flinched violently, fruit scattering as he fell to his knees.

“Seph?” The shortened name blurted out. I went cold. The boy’s back was reddened with welts, some oozing drops of blood. I slid out of my chair in front him. He kept his head lowered and trembled when I touched his chin. I lifted it gently, seeing for the first time, the swollen skin around the watery beautiful eyes. “What have I done?”

Sephestia bit his lip. I kept my touch gentle, thinking of the brutality of stew. The desperate, animalistic cries, did he cry out the same way as the lash bit his skin? Then horror drenched my soul. The welts were my doing for not listening, for disobeying and seeking out the stew. I was sent to my rooms in shame and Sephestia had borne the consequences of my actions with his flesh.

Keeping my hands on his shoulders, I pressed my lips against his forehead. The salt of his skin bitter, “Forgive me.”

He spoke, his voice dull and flat, “It is not my place to forgive, _metah_.”

It broke something inside me. My innocence shattered; the loss of my friend, and betraying a boy that had no control over his life. Mana had said that Sephestia could teach me. I just had to listen.

The questions were shy at first, about _shattel_ , about protocol, I pressed him for hours on end. He forgave me, with actions and then with soft ocean eyes. Remembering the warmth of Melix near doubled me over in loneliness.

I held out my hand after Sephestia had dampened the lanterns for the night. We were both shy but I led him to my pallet. My body was crying out in confusing signals but I ignored its clamoring. Instead, I hugged Sephestia next to me. My mouth was next to the leather and his buttocks were warm in the cradle of my groin.

When he found me in the bathing chamber, rubbing myself between my thighs furiously, trying to recapture the feeling of damp hands in my father’s bed, Sephestia choked. It sounded like he was swallowing laughter, it getting caught in his throat.

“ _Metah_ ,” his voice was gentle as his body pressed against my back, his skin warm against my own. “Ask, you never ask. This is my duty, to show you, to ease you.”

Lowering my head against my arm, the tile cool and the boy warm, I gave up. I shuddered, “Please.”

He taught me. His mouth, his hands, his taste were lessons that had cries wrenching from my throat, my hands clamping on his hips, my arms banding about him, daring him to be taken away.

And like with Melix, life eased into a steady rhythm with Sephestia. The tinkle of bells as I grabbed and pressed him to the pallet, his legs opening for me, his shy smile made me feel on top of the world.

My body changed even more, broadening, strengthening. I trained for my time on the borders, protecting the empire. I liked the muscle. I could hold Sephestia, lifting him up and down, impaled upon my groin, his slender arms about my neck.

“ _Metah_ ,” breathed against my ear.

I understood that I could not take Sephestia with me out into the borders. It would be two cycles before I returned to the palace. I could not understand the despair in my Seph’s eyes. I held him even as the dawn lightened on the horizon. My bed would be cold without him. My mind would be stagnant without his conversation.

He helped me gather my things. He lingered in the doorway before going to his knees. Frowning, I lifted him as if he were a child. His slender legs wrapped about my hips.

“I can not join your family in the farewell,” He said fiercely, his limbs tightening even more. “It is not proper.”

I obeyed that information without question. No one would ever take a lash to my Seph at my expense. I kissed him, stroked his hair, and muttered promises of my return. I could see it, my own villa with Sephestia at my side so that I would not do imprudent things.

But his ocean eyes were sad when I set him on his feet. They held a knowledge that I did not understand.

“ _Metah_ ,” was his goodbye, but the heavy weight of it sounded with a finality that made my stomach twist. Foolishness, he would be waiting on my return.

To say that I hated the military was an understatement. It was boring, the same march day after day. Soldiers drinking and whoring into the night by the light of bonfires, I kept to myself. I could hear the undertones of derision but gave it no mind. Instead, I wrote long mental letters to Seph that were never written down. It was against protocol. Letters to family only, to Mana I would ask about Sephestia’s well being. She never made note of him in her correspondence. The lack of knowledge, kept me awake at night.

Thoughts of bedding Sephestia would lead my hand to settle between my thighs. It would be Seph’s name that I would cry out as I spilled against my stomach. My companions in the brigade would ask why I did not find a warm body to share my blanket at night. I brushed it off. It was Sephestia that shared my bed and I wanted no other.

We returned like conquering heroes even though our swords and arrows were used against beast and fowl. My parents were smiling and embracing but my eyes were darting around the hall. Where was he? I had so much to tell him.

When my mother pulled away, “Sephestia?” was a desperate question that needed to be answered above all else. The light dimmed in her eyes as she looked to my father.

“No worries, son,” he said, pride swelling his chest. “I shall take you to the stew and you will make your choice on the morrow. We’ll get you a boy.”

Panicking, I looked more closely. Jereel and Tessla were nowhere to be found, just as Sephestia. Instead, a boy not much older than me stood at a respectful distant behind my father’s shoulder and a girl with yellow hair waited to serve my mother a glass of wine.

It made sense. They were all gone, shuffled back to the stew for new _shattel_ to replace the old. Sephestia’s words came back to haunt me.

~ _“I am an apprentice. Just as your Melix will become,” Sephestia would not meet my gaze. “I am your _shattel_._

 _Get him a boy meant a body servant, a _shattel_. Sephestia was to be mine for a time, just as Melix had been._ ~

I excused myself. That’s why his eyes had been so sad. Sephestia had known it would be final, our good bye. He had not wanted to be a distraction during my military service. Damn him! I grabbed bottles of wine and drank them in succession. The pottery shattered against the marble in my anger, damn Sephestia.

My father looked mildly reproachful when he collected me mid morning. I did not care. Ambrose, Boran, Prax, and Talon became a long list of _shattel_ in my bed. I would become bored. It was not their fault. They did not have freckles across their noses or eyes that were ocean bright. I would not allow myself to care for them, they could be taken away at a moment's notice, my childlike voice cried in my soul. The part that was a man built up a fortress to protect my bitter heart.

I acquired my villa along with a wife named Sephsonia. She was sweet and gentle. But in my heart, I clung to her because of her name. It kept Sephestia imprinted on my mind and heart. I never called her Seph. She bore me three sons and a daughter. She was diplomatic in telling me that she no longer wanted any more children. She explained that she no longer wanted to share my bed.

No longer the naive fool, I agreed. It was how things were done, years before me and would happen for years after I turned to dust. It did not mean that I no longer missed her companionship, her soft curves against me in the dark.

That’s how I found myself at a stew. The anger, the helplessness of it burned my gut. How I wanted and I berated myself for the want. The stew keeper gave me a knowing look.

“We have new wares, sir, right this way.”

My stomach cramped, my face warmed with shame but I followed him. He asked me my preference and I said male.

“Let’s get you a boy, sir.”

My teeth pulled back into a snarl and he faltered. He kept his mouth shut and let me look on my own, keeping a careful distance, ready to swoop in for the bartering. They were so young and beautiful and it sickened me. It would not change, whether I had one or not. I did not want to be alone. I wanted a boy, a boy that no one could take away from me, a companion that would share my bed until I returned to the earth.

I found him.

He was standing at the back of his pen. His wrists bound at his back, his collar leather like the rest of the _shattel_. But he stood near the wood of the enclosure, staring at the sunlight. He had freckles across his nose and his shoulders were wide.

I made a gesture and the pen was opened. The stew kept their wares clean and fed. He turned to me and went to his knees. His hair was fascinating, not yellow or brown, but a mixture of both, sunlight at the tips.

Taking a deep breath, I cupped his chin and lifted. The fine lines about his eyes made me realize that we were of an age. The eyes were green leaves dulled by rain.

I made my choice. My choice and dared anyone to deny my right to him.

I took his shackles and dropped them in the dirt. I helped him onto the horse, feeling his weight settle behind me. His hands went about my waist; he had freckles on his fingers. Taking a deep breath, I muttered, “My name is Nyan.”

His forearms tightened but his voice was steady when he responded, “Jen, _metah._ ”

I would not allow him to wear bells. His tunic was often a simple version of my own, his feet always encased in sandals or boots depending on the weather. I never let him away from my sight. He sat with me along side my family. He rode with me as I checked my holdings. I took his counsel during bartering and marketing.

_My Jen._

He broke apart the hardened heart that still held pieces of Melix and Sephestia. His gentle ways wormed inside of weary soul and reminded me that I was no longer alone. That he was mine and no one could take him from me.

_My Jen._

His body was a warm weight against my side at night. His green eyes widened with shock when I spread my thighs for him. I could tell he wanted to argue but I would not be dissuaded. I never got the opportunity to share a secret part of myself with Melix or Sephestia. It would always be for Jen only.

My children grew and had children of their own. I would not allow them to have _shattel_ until I felt they were ready. Sephsonia gave up arguing with me. I gained a reputation of being an oddity but I did not care. I did not have to listen, not when I held onto Jen in the darkness of night, my lips against the leather of his collar, the weight of his buttocks against my groin. I did not let go of him, even as his hair turned from sun tipped brown with streaks of gray, his muscles withering under age.

The seasons turned and I no longer could see very well. My posture stooped and I had to carry a smooth knobbed cane in my hand. All I could see clearly were lines that blurred from blue gray, to ocean blue, to soft green eyes that held an understanding and affection. _Melix, Sephestia, Jen, Melix, Sephestia..._ over and over again. I never told Jen that I loved him and he did not say those words either.

The world felt heavy, my chest labored to rise. There were pains down my arm. I could hear the tears in my daughter’s voice. “What should we do? Mana?”

Sephsonia’s voice was far away. She pressed her lips to my forehead. “Jen, he will need Jen. Go on, now. Go get his boy.”

_My boy_

Jen’s weight settled against me. “Do not be afraid, _metah,_ you are not alone. Never alone, because I will always be with you.”

I let myself go in the comfort of my boy’s arms.

_My Jen._

My boy


End file.
